


it's a wonderful life

by cipherstranger



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Infidelity, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Interrupted Suicide, M/M, general bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10080023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cipherstranger/pseuds/cipherstranger
Summary: Saturday night on the bridge over Heartland River, rain on the forecast, eight minutes to midnight. Some guy is looking at the water with a familiar thoughtfulness Kaito doesn't like.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Modern AU, please note content tags. Ryoga is 22, Kaito is 25.  
> Based on [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TB1x67Do5U)

 

 

 

 

Saturday night on the pedestrian bridge over Heartland River, rain on the forecast, eight minutes to midnight. Kaito comes here when he needs space to think, but tonight some guy is already there: standing on the stone pavement in a thin jacket and mismatched socks, his shoes on a nearby bench under a stack of wallet-phone-keys. He is leaning over the rail and staring into the water, and his face is twisted in a familiar kind of thoughtfulness that Kaito doesn't like at all.

"Oi, guy in the purple jacket." The brisk click of Kaito's boots is loud against the stone.

The person tenses but he doesn't move, like he's hoping Kaito will go away if he just doesn't react. Waits until Kaito is right beside him before he whirls around. "This bridge isn't big enough for two people, don't you think?"

Kaito deliberately looks the wide empty expanse of the bridge up and down, then raises an eyebrow.

The guy doesn't bother fighting it. "I'd. Prefer to be alone, if you don't mind."

"I do mind." Kaito reaches out to catch the guy's wrist.

The guy's eyes snap up to Kaito's face with alarm. He tries to tug his hand free but Kaito doesn't let go. "What the _hell—_ "

"Whatever you were thinking about doing," Kaito says. "Don't."

The moment passes. Silence in the summer night air but for the sound of the river and the ambient noise of traffic.

"I wasn't gonna do anything," the guy spits. He wrenches his hand aside again and Kaito lets him this time, looks away as he walks over to the bench and puts his shoes back on and his things back in his pockets. Below the bridge, the water of Heartland River is dark and rushing.

The guy walks back around to stand by Kaito; fidgets with his jacket, tugs down his sleeves over his hands.

"What's your name? I don't want to keep calling you 'that guy' in my head."

"R—" He opens his mouth then shuts it again. "Reginald."

Kaito nods. Fake name, obviously, but he understands. "Kite."

A flash of light, a sound of thunder in the distance, and it starts raining. Not entirely without warning. Kaito curses softly. "How are you getting back?" he asks over the sound of rain.

Reginald shakes his head. "Train, maybe. I walked here. Didn't think I'd—" He looks down at the river, its dark and rushing water, and falls silent.

Kaito doesn't press it. "Come on. I'll take you to the station."

He pulls his coat over his head and sets off at a sprint and the guy follows. They dash to Kaito's car, damp fabric squeaking slightly against the leather as they get in. Kaito starts the engine and turns up the windshield wipers, glances his passenger's way before he pulls out of the lot; the guy has turned resolutely away, but in the rearview mirror Kaito glimpses him raising a hand to swipe at his eyes. A plain silver band on one finger, and a thinner gold one above it.

The radio is turned all the way down, the car silent but for the patter of rain and the sound of windshield wipers. "Fuck," the guy chokes abruptly and buries his face into the shoulder rest. His own shoulders heave with sobs. Kaito lets him be, keeps his own eyes intent on the road ahead.

The closest train station is outside Heartland Park, five minutes away. Kaito pulls into the drop-off point, deserted at this time of night. The guy pulls himself together long enough to mutter thanks and get out of the car. He stands in the station entranceway and stares up at the digital display signaling the next southbound train in twelve minutes; makes no move towards either the ticketing machines or the gateway leading to the platform above.

Kaito parks the car and steps out. Catches the guy's arm and spins him round, slams him into the wall and traps his wrist against the rough brick. The abrasion is enough to break skin and the guy flinches. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you—"

Kaito kisses him. Leans in, traps him against the wall with his own body; the chest flush against his own is heaving with ragged breaths. The guy's eyes slip closed; with his free hand he shoves at Kaito's arm, but it's half-hearted. His lips part in yielding and Kaito presses the advantage; he's dizzy with it. Drops the guy's wrist and curls his hand around the back of his neck instead, fingers threading through damp hair.

They break apart, gasping for breath. The collar of the guy's jacket has fallen to one side, and a dark shape beneath the line where the undershirt meets skin catches Kaito's eye. Kaito pushes aside the fabric to reveal the edge of a tattoo, rising and falling slightly with the guy's breathing; reaches up to trace the edge with his fingers, then thinks better of it and moves to use his tongue instead. "Barian?" he whispers, over the edge of the shape where skin blurs into ink.

"Yes." Kaito's lips meet the mark softly and the guy's breath hitches. "How do you—"

"I knew somebody," Kaito murmurs. Vector had been a lot like this: tense, strung tight as a harp, like he was always on the verge of either running or pulling a knife. But he never actually did either of those things. Not to Kaito. Kaito thinks it's because he trusted him not to.

"Then you know it's better if we— if we don't exist."

 _If I don't exist_ , Kaito reads into the silence. Thinks about wide eyes and bright hair and nimble fingers, and his heart clenches. "No," he murmurs into the crook of the guy's neck, curls a hand around his waist and pulls their bodies together again, skin searing at the points of contact. "If you say it, it becomes real. So don't say it."

Vector had also been easy to distract. It's not a long-term solution. But it fixes the problem at hand.

"Not saying it doesn't make it any less true. He's better off, if I'm—" Kaito nips lightly at the side of that guy's neck and he gasps and falls silent, arching up into the touch. "If I'm not there."

"He's not," Kaito says with the conviction of experience. "And if you leave, then he won't forget it for as long as he lives." He catches the guy's left hand in his own and moves the pads of his fingers over the rings. "Who is he?"

Reginald grits his teeth. "He is my life."

"Then live for him," Kaito says, and kisses him again, tastes smoke and rain. His fingers find purchase in the rough fabric of the guy's coat; cheap material. Beneath Kaito the guy goes still, and the hands that push at him lose their strength and then reach up to card through his hair.

Beyond the station roof the rain has lessened. The guy's hands drop to Kaito's waist, find purchase at the deck pouch strapped to his hip. He pulls away momentarily to look, then his eyes snap back up to Kaito's face. "You're a duelist."

"Yes," Kaito says. "What about it?"

"Me too." He swallows and Kaito watches the bobbing motion of his throat. "It's been so long since I—"

Kaito thinks about sunny weekend afternoons, tournaments at the local card shop with the teenage boys. No, this guy's not a casual. Not with that look in his eye. The underground, then, resources changing hands and fighters gunning for a shot in the dark at the grand prize of battling the Barian Lords. Different kind of vice, less expensive than alcohol, only slightly more damaging. It's been half a year since Kaito himself played seriously, but he still always carries the cards.

"You gave up dueling," Kaito says. The guy nods. "For him?" Another nod. _Good choice._ "Tell me about him."

"He's," the guy begins, then falls silent. Kaito thinks: take your time. Above, the tracks shudder as a train pulls into the station. Reginald doesn't seem to care, so Kaito doesn't either. "He's the kindest person I have ever known."

The guy turns his face aside, doesn't meet Kaito's eyes as he collects his thoughts. Kaito waits.

"We, I. I did all those things to him, but even so—" Another pause. "He was there when no one was, and." The guy's voice catches. "You know, I don't regret it," he says. "Those people, my friends, they needed me, so I. I don't regret doing what I did. But it's _sick_ that I don't regret it." A laugh. "I should never have."

"Never have, what?" Kaito murmurs.

The guy tilts his head aside, rests one cheek against the rough wall. "Left. Gone with him. I don't know. Had second thoughts just now. Everything."

"But you did," Kaito says. "So live with it."

He steps away. After so long in close proximity to another person, the air in the train station is cool, and Kaito tugs at the hem of his jacket. Another rumble ahead as the train pulls away from the station. The guy slumps against the wall, eyes closed, and draws a long shuddering breath.

("No one asks to be Barian," Vector had said into Kaito's shoulder, on a night not very unlike this one, when Kaito's fingers had crossed uneven scar tissue over Vector's ribcage where a mark like Reginald's could well have been, once. That night Kaito fought Mizael for Vector's freedom. He is glad he won, because he doesn't think he would have tried twice.)

"Let's go somewhere else," Kaito whispers, and Reginald nods.

It has stopped raining. Outside the air-conditioned train station the night air is warm, heavy with humidity and petrichor. Heartland Park is a minute away on foot, and they walk the short distance to a sheltered pavilion just outside the entranceway. Under the slanted roof of the pavilion, a table illuminated by the harsh light of a nearby streetlamp. Kaito pulls out a tissue and wipes down the table surface, and lays his deck facedown on the granite. Reginald hesitates, then slides his own cards from an inside jacket pocket—the lining is waterproof, so the deck had stayed dry—and follows suit.

He runs a Water deck, no archetype. Kaito idly aligns the edges of Galaxy Expedition with the lines of the chessboard etched into the stone; studies the board and makes his play. "I end my turn." Across the table, Reginald leans forward; frowns at the cards and bites his lip. Twists the silver band with the other hand, doesn't touch the gold, and Kaito watches the motion and knows he will be all right.

He reaches for his deck and pulls Cross Draw of Destiny. Kaito asks to read the card text and then counters the play, and both their lifepoints hit zero at the end of the turn.

Reginald collects his cards and stands up. "Good game."

"Good game." Kaito reaches across the board to take the proffered hand. Reginald's handshake is firm. Kaito checks the time: 1:36 a.m. The last train will have left the station by now. "Do you need a ride back?"

Reginald searches his face for several seconds, then nods and tells him a street address. Kaito sets the GPS and puts his car in gear and goes. The guy seems to have calmed down enough, and the car is silent as they both watch the road go by. Kaito turns up the radio: midnight news, white noise. At the destination Kaito finds a shopping mall not far from a residential area. "Thank you," Reginald says. "I'll walk the rest."

Kaito nods. Reginald exits the car, crosses the patch of grass into the shopping mall grounds and out of following distance. Kaito watches him turn a corner and out of sight, then puts the car back in gear and leaves for home.

 

 

At a stoplight Kaito pulls out his phone, finds a message six months old, and hits reply.

 

 

 


End file.
